


immunocompromised

by PersephoneHemingway



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: A little crack, Alternate Universe - College/University, Cunnilingus, Desk Sex, Explicit Language, F/M, Fluff and Smut, Inappropriate Lab Conduct, Lingerie, Making Out, One Shot, PI/Grad Student, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Praise Kink, Reader-Insert, Sherlock Being Sherlock, Sherlock Holmes Has a Heart, Someone didn't read the lab safety protocol, Teasing, Vaginal Fingering, Wall Sex, lingerie under lab coats, playing a little fast and loose with the realities of science
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-16
Updated: 2019-04-16
Packaged: 2020-01-14 20:11:47
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,779
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18483526
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PersephoneHemingway/pseuds/PersephoneHemingway
Summary: You're a grad student and you really want to impress your research PI.I mean, he's Dr. Sherlock Holmes, come on.





	immunocompromised

**Author's Note:**

> for my ex-roommate and sister-in-kink--something to make her current phd lab rotation a little more bearable.  
> not brit-picked.

You were pretty damn smart. Your doctoral research program was world-renowned—you’d moved across an ocean to attend when you were accepted. At 23, you were actually the youngest grad student to ever be admitted. You knew your shit, and you took no shit, but you knew from day one that you were going to be in for a _time_ with Dr. Sherlock Holmes.

He had a bit of a reputation.  


"I'm Holmes, you're not, this is my lab, keep up."  


Arrogant. Condescending. Abrasive. Rude. Meticulous. Obsessive.

 _Brilliant_.

He flicked his eyes around the room and settled on you.  


"You," _Me!?_ "How do you test for leptin in the brain?”  


"Uh, I-"  


"Wrong. You?" He pointed to the person next to you.  


"Well, you need leptin antibodies for the Western blot…”  


His voice faded out as you retreated to the back of your mind in a shaken panic.

 _You weren’t fast enough_.  


You were used to being the smart one—your previous professors and PIs sang your adulations. You've won awards! Sherlock Holmes didn't care. He decided you were smart enough to take in, sure, but he still saw everyone as an idiot compared to himself.  


You were used to being impressive, and now you're withering because you're not.

His parting words for the first day:  


"You screw up my lab, I screw up your GPA. Yes?" He then got a text message, demanded that someone lock up after him, dropped the keys on the tile floor, and swooped out of the lab.  


Another woman in your cohort, Molly, gave you some sympathy. "Don't look so put out, he's like that with everyone." She leaned in. "And don't be embarrassed either, we're all in love with him."  


"W-what!? I'm not-"  


"Sure you aren't." Molly winked, knocked her books off the table into her bag, and sauntered off.  


&  


He steeped his fingers together.  


"Okay, ELISA tests. Useful for detecting and quantifying various proteins and antibodies. You should've learned how to do this in undergrad."  


You were tense. You were frantically writing notes just in case.  


"And don't you dare forget that order or everything will go to shit, understand?"  


_Yes. I used to be the one yelling at people for screwing them up._  


"And don't worry about the cost—focus on getting it right. Don't try and salvage it half-assed, just start over. My brother's on the research grant committee and he'll get me however much I need. If you need to redo a test with the absurdly expensive litmus paper because the results were hard to read, go ahead, I don’t care. Just get it done right before I notice."  


_Oh.  Well, I guess that’s not so bad._

&

Okay. You were handling this. You knew what you were doing and what was expected of you, and you felt like you could breathe again.

Then Sherlock started giving you extra assignments.  


"Get this done." he drops a heavy manila folder on the table in front of you, "IRB paperwork. The deadline is at the end of the week. File under expedited. You know what that means, don't you?"  


"Yes. What's it for?"  


"Another lab. Looking at EBNA2 instead of EBNA1. You'll be assisting—and by assisting I mean doing most of the work—on it once it's approved. You can start prepping for it now too, if you'd like."  


"Is that all?"  


"Hm, well, before you leave, you can autoclave all that." He vaguely gestured to a cart carrying roughly half the lab's glassware. "Don't fuck up." And then he left.  


You didn't know if you wanted to flip the cart or cry.  


&

You were having a bad day… month… and it was getting to you. Your emotional control was at a pathetic low, which is why after Sherlock handed you another flash drive of experiments to review (that no one else had to), you _burst_.  


"Why do you hate me!?" You couldn't stop yourself even through you knew you sounded like a petulant child. He looked up and quirked an eyebrow your way.  


"Hate you? Are you stupid?"  


"No! Which is why I don't understand why you're trying so hard to get me to drop out!   


"I'm giving you extra work because I know you can handle it, not because _I hate you,_ what a childish assumption."  


"Oh. Well. Okay." _He thinks I'm capable?_  


"Anything else?"  


"Uh, no, that was it. I'll go..."  


"If you come back in forty-five minutes I'll show you how to identify the latency phases of Epstein-Barr virus."  


"Okay, thanks." You were actually looking forward to it.

&

Everything was so much better after you stopped doubting yourself.  


&  


He was staring into space with his fingers touching in front of his face. Again.  


"Dr. Holmes?"  


No response.  


"Dr. Holmes."  


Nothing.  


"Dr. Holmes!" You even waved in front of his face.  


"Sherlock!"  


His eyes snapped to you.  


"Did I give you permission to use my first name?"  


"No, but if you don't answer to your last, I'm not sure what else to do." You griped as you rolled your eyes.  


"Yes alright, what?"  


"The IACUC protocol, where is it?"  


"Probably being used as shredded bedding for the mice." Two weeks ago you would've believed him.  


"So, somewhere in 221c's busted filing cabinet?"  


"Yes."  


"On it."  


He smirked when you left.  


&  


"I thought I told you not to touch anything!?"  


"But the samples were dying so I-"  


"Dying? What did you do?"  


"I didn't-"  


"Get out."  


"But-"  


_"Get out."_ He locked eyes with you and pointed to the door.  


You wanted to kill him. You were going to kill him.  


&  


You stomped to Lab 221b and nearly slammed the door upon entering, but you figured that'd make it worse. You'd been brooding about it all night.  


Sherlock looked up from where he hunched over a microscope.  


"(Y/N)."  


"Sherlock." You immediately went to your bench to check on your Western blots.  


"(Y/N), I-" He coughed awkwardly and continued in a murmur. "I'm sorry."  


Your jaw dropped and your head snapped his way.  


"What did you just say?" Your whole mood had turned around, and you were going to take advantage.  


"You heard me,”  


"Yes, but I didn't have my Snapchat up, mind saying it again?"  


He glared at you.  


"Your actions saved all the samples but one. Do better next time." He went back to whatever was under his microscope.  


That might've been the best apology he's ever given.  


&  


You weren’t having the best morning—you were bitten by a mouse. It was _really_ unpleasant, but you were determined to make it through the day—Sherlock was supervising everyone’s progress and you were all in the lab for once.  


You reached for a jug of something caustic and your sleeve rolled up above the wrist. Sherlock saw the swollen bite immediately.  


"Shit, (Y/N)!" The best he could really do in the moment was hand you a wet paper towel, so he did. He squeezed your hand once.

"It's not so bad..." You floundered.  


"When did this happen?"  


"Uh, this morning in lab when I...  


"Why didn't you say anything!?"  


"I didn't want you to know I screwed up..." You wouldn't make eye contact.  


He sighed and dragged you down to the infection clinic by your good arm. You sat in the waiting room side-by-side as various just-in-case vaccines were prepared.  


"What happened?"  


"Scruffed a mouse too loose when I was giving the immunizations. It wasn't too happy with me, spooked and bit my wrist."  


He sighed. "Don't be so stupid, take care of yourself..." He mumbled.  


You looked up to see him looking at the wall in front of him. _Is he… concerned for me?_  


"Your body's just a transport, but you still need to sleep... and eat... and whatnot."

You scoffed.  


"Sherlock, I don't think I've ever seen you eat before."  


"Have you ever seen me outside of lab?"  


"...Fair point, but you always look like you've skipped two meals minimum."  


"Eating is so... troublesome."  


_Maybe I could help make it easier._  


&  


You start leaving brown paper lunches on his desk in the office part of his lab. You don't really know why, but you do it anyway. You typically try to sneak it in, but one day you're later than usual or he's earlier than usual and he catches you with your hand still on the bag right as you're about to sneak out. He clears his throat and startles you. He's leaning against the door frame with his hands in his coat pockets, smirking.  


"Oh! Hey..."  


"I should've known it was you."  Sherlock swayed to you. "You're sweet on me." He reaches out a hand and catches your hair between his fingers. He pulled his hand away gently and the strands slipped back into place.  


"You're the only one I'd really want to be feeding me anyway." He smiled and walked around to sit at his desk.  


You blush to your toes and scurry out the door.  


_Okay, he definitely knows I care about him_. But he doesn't seem bothered... you've never seen or heard of him teasing anyone else lightly like this... he usually dodges or ignores it when anyone else tries to flirt with him. Were you different? _Stop. Don't. Don't go there. You'll fuck up a good thing, lose his respect, and he'll never forgive you. You'll never forgive you. Just be cool.  
_

You were _not_ cool.  


All night long you sat in front of your mirror stroking your hair where he had—you felt pathetic, but you couldn't stop.  


_You had to get him._  


&  


"It's called Operation: Lingerie Under Labcoats."  


"You are such a dork."  


"No, no! Hear me out!" You flailed your arms around and settled into your 'serious' face. "Okay, so I have hot lingerie, right? I mean some _really hot_ lingerie. My sister works for a fashion magazine, gets a lot of samples, and we're the same size. I'll start wearing stuff to lab!"  


"And what, strip for him while you wait for the titration to turn?"  


You clicked your tongue. "I'll wear _only_ the lingerie to lab. Under my lab coat, of course."  


"Girl, I can't believe you, what'll that even do if it's all buttoned up?"

"He's _taller than me_ and my coat's a size too big remember? And I mean, he notices _everything._ If he gets close, he'll be able to see down my front, and if he's actually interested, I bet it'll drive him up the wall." You smiled. "If he's not interested, then hey, at least I get to feel sexy as hell while I slice up my brain samples and stain ‘em purple!"  


"Well, good luck, girl. You'll need it." Molly walked off laughing into her hand. She was excited to see the fallout.  


&  


Day One.  


You started simple: black lace balcony bra & matching undies.  


No response, completely professional.  


&  


Day Two.  


Baby blue see-through teddy.  


You really had to respect the guy's poker face. He was still able to tease you as usual while appearing completely unmoved by your feminine lures. You even made it a point to stand obnoxiously close to him.  


Nothing.  


&  


Day Three.  


Red lace. I'm talking _crimson red._  


Morning. You left Sherlock's daily lunch bag on his desk. Before you could leave, he'd swooped into the room past you, kicked the door closed, and pressed close to you up against it. His voice was a low growl.  


"You think I don't know what you're doing?"  


"Whatever do you mean, Sherlock?"  


"Showing up here with your perfect body wrapped all up for me in the sexiest lace. You really ought to stop teasing me."  


"Or what?"  


"Looks like you'll be finding out pretty soon." He flicked at your neck and left you stunned, alone in 221a.

 _How is he still winning this seduction contest!?_  


&  


Day Four.  


Deep purple, like plum or eggplant. Silk or satin or one of those other material manifestations of _smooth._  


Sherlock was being suspiciously silent, and he seemed to be… lurking. It was setting you on edge, and you really didn’t want to spill anything in front of him. You had just started micropipetting strange liquids into tiny plastic test tubes with lids when he came up behind you and stopped. He let his presence unsettle you on purpose, looking over your shoulder to see if he could make you uncomfortable enough for your hands to shake.

Just when you’d gotten your nerves under control, his hand started to drift down your stomach. He reached up under your lab coat and started to pet at the outside of your panties. Your arm jerked violently but thankfully didn’t knock over any equipment. You went to put down your work, but Sherlock interrupted.

“No, no, keep going.”

You did your best to work through the distraction, but you couldn’t help but twitch whenever he’d graze against your clit through the fabric. And when he’d slipped his hand down into your panties—you’d nearly collapsed. He glided his fingers between your lips and settled into a steady circling motion that left you hazy but present enough to continue.

Now casually grinding down against his hand, you moved on to the next part of the procedure.

"You really want to impress me?"

You made some desperate noise of confirmation.

"Then finish all this up and meet me in my office." Immediately, he had stopped touching you and was already halfway across the lab. You stared at the door dumbfounded when he closed it behind him.

"Fucking asshole..." After your legs stopped shaking and you'd grumbled a few more curses about him, you did as he instructed and continued your lab work. 

About twenty minutes later and nearing the end of your experiment, the lights in the lab went out. You carefully put down whatever you were holding and felt your way blindly to the crack of light under the door out to the hallway.

Immediately upon exiting, the door was shut behind you and you were pressed against it. The hands slipping up and down your skin and the kisses against your neck were making you dizzy.

"Sh-Sherlock! What-!?"

"You were taking too long." He mumbled against your lips as he crushed his to yours over and over again. 

"W-Wait, we should-" You scooted along the wall in the direction of his office. He took the hint and guided you backwards into privacy by your hips. This time you kicked the door shut behind you and pushed him further into the room until his back hit his desk. You were sucking on each others' tongues and pulling at lab coats. His had hit the floor and you'd shrugged out of a sleeve when you went for his pants and ended up flat on your ass when you pulled down and lost your balance.

He rubbed his hand down his chin and smirked before offering it to you for help. You took his hand, and he pulled you up with enough momentum that you crashed forward into his chest, as was his plan. He held you close and smiled into your hair.

"Is this okay?"

"Yes, wow, yes, so okay, more than okay-"

He chuckled. "Got it. Now, as much as I fancy you in purple, I think I'd prefer you in nothing at all. Shall we test my theory?"

You squeaked. "Yes please."

He maneuvered you over to his side of the desk and paused to fold your glasses and set them aside gently.

He cupped his hands under your breasts and moved them back to unhook your bra—the straps slid down your arms and the whole of it dropped to the floor. He crouched to peel down your panties and you shivered.

He then leaned back against his desk and ran his eyes up and down your naked body, studying you. He would’ve looked the picture of composure if his trousers weren’t bunched around his knees showcasing the bulge in his underwear.

You didn’t know what to do with your arms, so you crossed them in front of your body. Sherlock undid that pretty quickly.

“Don’t hide from me. You're lovely.”

You were blushing pink from your cheeks down between your breasts. He stepped forward and gently pushed you into his desk chair.

“Touch yourself.”

“Wha- _what_?”

“Show me how you like it. Then I’ll take over.”

You dipped your fingers down, spread, rubbed, and squeezed to your shy satisfaction.

“Is that all?”

“I- well, usually I go harder… and faster…”

“So, show your work.”

Your _yes sir_ eyes looked up at him, and you did.

Sherlock was a genius at everything else, so it was no wonder he took your direction so well and had you coming hard minutes after taking over. He’d curled his fingers everywhere they were meant to and pinched your clit at the pinnacle of your pleasure until your spasms erupted from you quite literally—you’d squirted all over his hand.

You were slouched back against the chair’s leather and sweating, too spent to be embarrassed. You watched with bleary eyes as Sherlock palmed himself through his underwear with the hand soaked in your slick.

“Can… can I see?”

Sherlock gave you a wicked smirk before pulling out his cock and giving you a _show_ as he stroked himself languidly. You watched with your lips parted.

Just as he was about to come you dropped down to your knees and took him into your mouth. His eyes blew wide and then they squeezed shut in rapture as he spilled down your throat.

You took pleasure in knowing that you’d surprised Sherlock Holmes.

&

Day Twelve.

Pink with strawberries. But like, not in a childish way. You looked like a snack.

This has been going on for a while now. It was probably a really bad idea, but honestly you didn’t think twice.

 _Dr. Sherlock Holmes wanted you._ And he thought you were a capable scientist. What an ego boost.

You were back to wearing a full set of clothes under your lab coat, but you always had a wicked set of lingerie for Sherlock under your layers. Your sister was more than happy to send you more.

Another lab, another multi-step procedure under Sherlock’s heavy supervision as he teases you up the wall. He unbuttons your coat and drags his hands across your body smooth. You try to remain unaffected, but you're breathing heavy and making mistakes and you're surprised to note he doesn't care about your mistakes. He's not even paying attention. He keeps going until your knees are wobbling and he helps you regain your balance before he walks out.  


"W-wait, where are you-?"  


"Well, we could stay in here, but I really shouldn't be _eating_ in the lab. So if you'd come with me..." he gestured through the connecting door into his office, and you scampered in ahead of him, suppressing a girlish squeal.  


And oh, his tongue _did things_ to you.

Just as he never seemed to breathe when he was explaining procedure or telling someone exactly why they were wrong, he didn’t break for air as he sucked your lower lips into oblivion.

Your head fell back as you made little gasping noises and tangled your fingers into his curls.

Once he’d licked you through your orgasm, he promptly wiped your juices off his mouth and chin with his sleeve and left you there blissed out on his desk.   


_How was that, (Y/N)?_   


&  


Another week later.  


"What are you doing?"  


"Drafting my thesis proposal, go away, you can read it with the rest of the committee when it's done."  


"Have you slept?"  


"Have _you_ slept?"  


"My sleeping habits are irrelevant to the state of yours. _Have you slept_?"  


"No, I'm busy."  


"Too busy to sleep?"  


"Yes, too busy to sleep. Like my sadomasochistic research PI.”  


"I'm a sociopath, not a sadomasochist. Are you projecting?"  


"Sherlock."  


"No, you're nowhere near a sadomasochist. Not even a masochist. But you do have a praise kink the size of the Pacific oce-"  


"Sherlock!"  


"What? You do aim to please. The looks you get when I compliment your work, you'd think I was making you come on my-"  


"Sherlock, oh my god, shut up! I'll go! I'll go to sleep!"  


"Oh, good. Sweet dreams, love."  


You grumbled continuously as you gathered your things from around the room.  


"There's a cab waiting for you downstairs."  


You paused, surprised at his kindness (and foresight, tbh).  


"Thanks, Sherlock."  


"Mm."  


When you got back to your flat, you settled into bed and touched yourself to completion. You had very sweet dreams indeed.  


&

The encounter started with “Sherlock? Can you look over my numbers?” and progressed to where you were now: slammed against the inside of his office door (again) with his sinful tongue down your throat.

Your hands were wandering free as you bucked your hips up against his, unable to contain your anticipation without physical movement.

He stilled your wrists and pressed them to the door by your ears.

“Tch, tease…”

He bit lightly at the shell of your ear.

“Bend over the desk.” His voice was a rasp.

“And?” You _loved_ to push him. He bit down harder.

“And I’ll fuck you until your legs shake.”

Your legs were already shaking and he knew it. You scrambled over to the desk and bent over his books, resting your cheek on your crossed forearms. You wiggled your butt and winked back at him. He smirked and gave your arse a little slap, then he flipped up the bottom of your coat and pulled your pants down. He took a handful of you in each hand, then slid them up your sides to your elbows. He pulled them back and straight until both of your wrists were snug in one of his hands.

“You want this, (Y/N)? You want me?”

You whined high.

“Answer. _Out loud_.”

“Yes, yes, please, yes-!”

“Please, what?”

“Sherlock!”

“Yes?”

“Just-“

“Just what?”

“Sheeerlock! Fuck me _please_ , fuck me _so good_.”

“Oh, if you insist…”

His first thrust knocked the glasses right off your face. Neither of you could resist laughing aloud.  


He still pulled your hair when you asked, but overall it was probably the most sentimental over-the-desk-fuck that ever was.

He’d filled you so well and touched every part of you you’d ever imagined could become honey in a lover’s hands.

And yes, your legs were jelly by the end.  


&

The two of you were in front of the TV surrounded by containers of Chinese takeout.

You tilted your head to the side and made a face.

“Is that even possible?”

“Sure it is.” He leaned in close to whisper.

"Do you want me to teach you?"  


**Author's Note:**

> fun fact: my roommate was, in fact, bitten by a mouse in lab.  
> she helped with some lab details and scenarios.  
> she does something or other with ebv and immunology...  
> meanwhile i almost joined a neuropsychology lab looking at leptin in mouse brains but it didn't work with my schedule.  
> i research death and disgust instead. (ask me about my research and i'll never shut up)  
> i'm a hoe for science.  
> anyway so some of that shit is legit and some i was totally winging. it's nice to have a mix.


End file.
